


Life and Love; An Exploration of Tezuka Kunimitsu

by Puffcat



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Dealing with anxiety, M/M, Multi, also like no consistency in writing style, fills in gaps in canon, non-related drabbles, theres a variety of ships and ratings here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffcat/pseuds/Puffcat
Summary: A series of drabbles centered around Tezuka, delving further into and expanding on his life behind the scenes of the manga as well as later in life.





	1. The Not-So-Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Long time no post, I know. For awhile now, I've been writing short stories about my favorite character, Tezuka. I've always connected to him on a deeper level than any other character, and writing these pieces has been a way for me to deal with the events of my own life. In that way, a few of the works in this compilation are especially personal to me. 
> 
> There's no real continuity between pieces, and there's a few different ships that pop up! Before each chapter will be a short summary, ship, and warning.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lead-up to that fateful match, and the aftermath months later. 
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka

"We’re going to play each other tomorrow." Atobe didn't look at Tezuka as he spoke, instead choosing to remain stretched out on his back, hands settled comfortably behind his head as he relaxed into the soft sheets of his bed.

"Yes. We both knew it would happen eventually." By some stroke of luck - whether it was good or bad, neither were sure - they had avoided going against one another in an official match until this year's Kanto Regional Tournament. 

"Your arm-"

"It’s fine," said Tezuka, quiet but firm, leaving no room for argument. On the list of things he did not want to discuss at the moment, the state of his arm was at the very top.

But Atobe was not about to leave it just yet. "We both know it isn't." He frowned, always able to see through Tezuka's strong, unbreakable mask he wore for the world. "You can't lie to me, I see your weaknesses."

Tezuka, sitting up in bed next to Atobe, tried very hard to not clench his jaw and betray is irritation as he turned the page of the latest novel he was attempting to read. "It won't change my lineup. Or how I play." Seigaku needed to go to nationals. Tezuka had promised his teammates, his friends, all those years ago at the beginning of their journey together. And he wasn't about to go back on it now. 

Even if his matches with Atobe were always long.

Even if he knew it would take everything he had and more to win.

Even if it meant sacrificing his already poorly healed arm.

Seigaku would go to nationals.

Almost as if he sensed Tezuka's train of thought, Atobe finally pulled his gaze away from the canopy of his four poster bed to glare of Tezuka, anger now very clear on his face. "So, you're willing to give up everything, just to give your team a shot they might not even make? You'll have to face Rikkai, Kunimitsu, I think you're forgetting. Or maybe you aren't, maybe you're just so bullheaded that you don't care. But make no mistake, Sanada will be waiting, and then what will you do? When your arm is in shambles and there's nothing you can say or do to stop him and his team ruthlessly ripping apart the very dream you can't even play for anymore! Win on another order, I-"

"Atobe. Stop this."

The use of his surname, uttered in such a frosty tone, managed to halt Atobe's tirade in its tracks. But he did not back down completely, refusing to look away from Tezuka's hard, unyielding eyes. 

The book snapped shut, a sharp, jarring crack in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

"I think, it would be best if I leave." Clipped words barely covered up the stinging retort Atobe knew Tezuka had for him. The book was placed on the nightstand, and Tezuka swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He knew his way out of the overly large manor, and wouldn't have let Atobe help him even if he didn't. He gathered up his bag and walked to the door.

"What if I forfeit?"

It was a last ditch attempt to get Tezuka to stay, and perhaps, if Atobe was at all lucky, be reasonable about this. They both knew of course, in their rational minds, that Atobe would never do such a thing, but since Tezuka was already suitably stirred up, he might take the bait.

Luck, however, was not in Atobe's favor today.

Hand on the doorknob, Tezuka didn't even turn. "You'll give me your best. This isn't about what you want."

And then he was gone.

Atobe just sat, letting his fury and hurt and worry pick and chew at his mind. But if Tezuka could be cold and uncaring toward the state of his own body, so could he. If Tezuka wanted a long, brutal match as his tournament farewell, what kind of lover would Atobe be if he didn't deliver?

After all, his feelings didn't matter.

 

 

***

 

Seeing Tezuka fall, barely able to lift his arm, tore at Atobe's heart like nothing else had. At the net, he took Tezuka's hand in his own, squeezing it as he raised it to the sky. 

 

***

 

In hindsight, he probably overreacted, back in his bedroom. 

Seigaku had, by some miracle, managed to pull out a win over Rikkai, and Tezuka's small mouthy pillar-in-training had come through, once again, to Atobe's relative annoyance. He still had yet to best Sanada in competition himself, a brat like that had no right to do so before he did. No matter how good the match may or may not have been.

 It seemed that Tezuka had known what he was doing. Even so, there was still a matter of the unfavorable payment such a victory had required. 

But then, Atobe supposed, if it weren't for Tezuka's arm, then he wouldn't be here with him, strolling along a quiet city street in Germany, enjoying the late afternoon sun as they made their way to a small cafe, hand in hand. 

A thin, but still very much appreciated silver lining. 

Because Tezuka would never in a million years allow such a blatant display of affection back home. But this was Europe, and certain exceptions could be made, given the more...relaxed attitudes.

They decided to sit indoors, not wanting Tezuka to be overly distracted by his mild pollen allergy. 

As they sat close at a small table in the back, sipping exquisitely prepared coffee, Atobe spoke.

"You knew what you were doing after all."

Tezuka only raised an eyebrow, as if Atobe had stated something inanely obvious, like the fact that the sky was blue. "When it comes to my tennis, that's usually the case." A touch of playful sarcasm. He must be in a decent mood. 

Atobe huffed. Tezuka really was going to make him say it out loud. Ah well. He knew he deserved that much at least.

"....Alright. You were right, Kunimitsu. I should have trusted that. And I shouldn't have snapped at you in such a way that you decided leaving my presence was a better alternative then attempting to make me understand," he admitted sincerely, extending his leg under the table to press his ankle against Tezuka's. 

The smallest hint of a smile shone through as the corners of Tezuka's lips twitched upward, and his eyes softened as they watched Atobe speak his truth. 

"We're both stubborn, Keigo. It's just who we are. And sometimes we clash. But regardless... Thank you."

His split second glance at Atobe's mouth told him that if it weren't for the public setting, Tezuka would have liked very much to literally kiss and make up. Instead he settled for returning the pressure against Atobe's leg, letting their warm skin rub lightly against one another.


	2. An (Initially) Unwanted Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuji's always got Tezuka's back ;))
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Pairing: None, implied background TakaFuji

**Sent 8:15 PM; To Fuji:**

You are no longer allowed to give me any gifts, for any reason, ever. 

 

**Sent 8:16 PM; To Tezuka:**

Oh? And here I was thinking you’d enjoy my generous present. And by generous I mean that fact that it cost me ¥7000, not just the size.

 

**Sent 8:16 PM; To Fuji:**

....

 

**Sent 8:17 PM; To Fuji:**  

That’s not funny. And I didn’t ask you to waste that money on such a thing.

 

**Sent 8:18 PM; To Tezuka:**

If I recall correctly, you’re the one who was bemoaning your lack of proper equipment~~

 

**Sent 8:20 PM; To Fuji:**

Me merely mentioning that fact, by /accident/, I might add, was not a call to action!

 

**Sent 8:21; To Fuji:**

And that aside. Where did you expect me to keep this? It’s hard enough to keep my manga private. 

 

**Sent 8:22; To Tezuka:**

If you can find a way to keep your porn away from the prying eyes of your mother, you can hide this too (◠  ‿  ◠✿)

 

**Sent 8:22; To Fuji:**

It is not. Porn.

 

**Sent 8:23; To Tezuka:**

It IS. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. I can show you my collection if it’ll make you feel better!

 

**Sent 8:24; To Fuji:**

I don’t think Kawamura would appreciate you sharing the secret pictures you’ve taken of him. 

 

**Sent 8:25; To Tezuka:**

RUDE. (ʘ  ‿  ʘ✿)

 

**Sent** **8:25; To Tezuka:**

As if I’d share his nudes with anyone anyway.

 

**Sent 8:26; To Fuji:**

Back to the topic at hand. Why.

 

**Sent 8:27; To Tezuka:**

I already told you why??

 

**Sent 8:28; To Fuji:**

No, why /this/, specifically. If you really had to do this, couldn’t it have been something more discrete?

 

**Sent 8:29; To Tezuka:**

We both know subtlety isn’t my thing, Tezuka. Besides, that’d be boring. You deserve something worthy of Seigaku’s mighty captain.

 

**Sent 8:29; To Tezuka:**

Something that’ll blow your mind.

 

**Sent 8:30; To Tezuka:**

Something with seven vibration settings and thrusting action.

 

**Sent 8:32; To Tezuka:**

I hope you know that I’m just looking out for your best interests here ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

 

**Sent 8:35; To Fuji:**

Really now.

 

**Sent 8:36; To Tezuka:**

Really. You’ve gotta get all that stress out somehow, clearly tennis isn’t working. And you can’t live in Atobe’s bedroom.

 

**Sent 8:37; To Fuji:**

I’m this close to blocking you 👌

 

**Sent 8:38; To Tezuka:**

Holy shit an actual emoji. Inui isn’t gonna believe this. 

 

**Sent 8:39; To Fuji:**

Fuji.

 

**Sent 8:40; To Tezuka:**

You won’t~ Then you’d have no best friend left to confide in!

 

**Sent 8:41; To Fuji:**

And look where confiding in you has gotten me this week. 

 

**Sent 8:42; To Tezuka:**

Um, with an amazing vibrator?? That’s the opposite of a problem imo (°▽°)

 

**Sent 8:43; To Tezuka:**

Just try it! If you absolutely hate it, I promise I’ll never buy you anything ever again.

 

**Sent 8:44; To Tezuka:**

But you won’t hate it, because it’s amazing. And waterproof ;)))

 

**Sent 8:45; To Fuji:**

..... Fine. But only because for some reason, I feel guilty that you spent so much on me.

 

**Sent 8:46; To Tezuka:**

Whatever helps you sleep at night~~ ★｡･:*¯\\_(ツ)_/¯*:･ﾟ★

 

**Sent 8:47; To Tezuka:**

And this definitely will, by the way, after it gives you the best orgasm of your life. 

 

**Sent 8:48; To Fuji:**

I’m going to take a bath.

 

**Sent 8:48; To Tezuka:**

Bring the vibrator!

 

****

 

**Sent 6:30 AM; To Tezuka:**

Soooooo

 

**Sent 6:30 AM; To Tezuka:**

What do you want for your birthday~?

 

**Sent 6:40 AM; To Fuji:**  

I

 

**Sent 6:41 AM; To Fuji:**

some new grip tape would be nice.

 

**Sent 6:42 AM; To Tezuka:**

Can do~~ (^з^)-☆

 

**Sent 6:43 AM; To Tezuka:**

Never doubt me, Tezuka. I know what I’m doing.

 

**Sent 6:44 AM; To Fuji:**

Hn.

 

**Sent 6:45 AM; To Tezuka:**

<3333


	3. Only Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of my biggest headcanons for Tezuka is that he lives with anxiety and occasional depression, and as with many students, school only serves to exacerbate that. Tezuka especially has a LOT of responsibilities, definitely enough that it would take a toll. Everything in this chapter (and the others that deal with this subject matter) comes from a very real place, as this was definitely a way for me to reflect on and cope with my own personal struggles. 
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka

Tezuka, he supposes, is the poster child for the phrase "grin and bear it". Well, if he disregards the grinning, anyway. 

But it’s not like there’s any other way he can live his life, at least as it stands right now.

 

***

 

Rarely does Tezuka even think twice about test scores being returned. Rarely does he even entertain the thought that he's scored less than the best. But, rarely doesn't mean never.

This time, he is worried. Outwardly, he sits ramrod straight and still as ever, watching as the teacher makes his way down the rows of desks. Waiting for his turn.

He tries to ignore the small twists in his gut as he is handed his test, face down, like all the others. He chances a glance at his teacher's face, and sees the smallest hint of curiosity there. His heart plummets.

By most standards, a B is a very good score, one to bring home to parents and make them proud. But Tezuka's standards are not most, nor are his family’s. To him, a B means he dropped the ball, wasn't perfect, not even close. Barely skimming the pages for his errors, Tezuka berates himself for being careless. He should have done more, studied harder, paid more attention. Always, always it is his fault, should something go wrong.

Because to blame anything else, is to make excuses. And excuses are unacceptable.

Tezuka is already prepared for the disappointed looks he'll get at home, although his family will do their best to disguise them. 

Tezuka is already prepared for the near constant feeling of guilt and failure and discomfort that he's going to be plagued with for days, perhaps weeks even. 

Tezuka is already prepared to keep this entirely to himself. Though his friends may make attempts to console him, should he divulge this shame, they don't understand. They won't ever understand.

With measured movements, so as not to give away his inner turmoil, Tezuka slips his test into his bag. He beats back the dread as the teacher begins to drone on, but it will be revisited at night, in the dark and quiet hours when he has no choice but to relive his mistakes. Over and over and over.

 

***

 

Restless nights give way to exhaustion the mornings after, and Tezuka wakes feeling more tired than when he went to bed. 

But there is much to do. No sick days allowed.

Being tennis captain means being a role model as much as a leader or a great player. And that means Tezuka never fails to be at the courts twenty minutes before his teammates start to trickle in, early enough to change and chat before practice. 

Tezuka has never let himself just be early. He must be early to being early, for if he's anything else, he's horribly late. 

If his teammates notice the slight darkness under his eyes, or his glasses flecked with dust, they do not comment. If Oishi or Fuji shoot him concerned looks as he orders them to begin their morning laps, Tezuka pretends he doesn't see. 

He's perfectly fine. Nothing some hard work and effort won't fix.

 

***

 

The closer the Kantou tournament gets, the more his shoulder aches.

He hasn't been playing matches, his coach has forbidden it, but she hasn't forbidden hours of extra practice after team practice has ended. Tezuka can't afford to get lazy, or soft, injury be damned.

He must be in control. He must be perfect. 

Tezuka gets home, eats a quick dinner, and studies until bedtime. He can't afford another poor score. Sleep is, as ever, brushed aside to make way for achievement. 

 

***

 

Tezuka is tired. So, so tired. His test scores have been excellent, but rather than be pleased, each test passed only dampens the anxiety for a day or two. 

Why should he be praised? He's only doing what's expected of him. Nothing more.

 

***

 

The days become a blur. Routine brings some comfort, but not nearly enough. There is always the "what ifs" looming on the horizon, clouding Tezuka's vision. He can't let them get to him, he has to stay on the steady, narrow path he's created for himself. Because if he even puts one toe out of line, it will all come crashing down.

He slips his jersey over his head, ignoring the protest from his shoulder, and picks up his racket.

He's got a tournament to prepare for.

 

***

 

Another test, another imperfect score. Tezuka feels the corners of his eyes prickle and his nose burn. But he's still in class, surrounded by his peers.

He will not give in. He can't.

Breathing deep, Tezuka calms himself, while at the same time mentally tearing at himself for messing up. He'll deserve the few hours of sleep he'll get tonight, reviewing and reviewing until he knows the material down pat, until there is no chance of this happening again.

When he mother peaks into his room, plate in hand, to tell him that she's brought him dinner, Tezuka accepts. But he hardly eats, feeling too sick to swallow any more than a few mouthfuls.

 

***

 

Laying awake at night, Tezuka, between his worries and stresses, takes comfort in it all. It's given him all he's achieved thus far. Where might he be without it?

And that question scares him more than any missed serve, or botched test.

 

***

 

It's Friday, and there is no practice, but there is a student council meeting. Or, there was. By the time Tezuka awakes, it has come and gone. His stomach flips painfully as he blinks, realizes the time, and the fact that he forget to set his alarm the night previous. 

He races to school, stopping just short of the gates to take time to organize himself. He's already late, he's got to at least look presentable. 

Tezuka apologizes profusely to the supervising teacher, who waves him off with a smile, saying that it happens to everyone.

But Tezuka isn't everyone.

When the other members of the council catch sight of him, they turn, whisper to one another when they think he isn't looking. 

He thinks about it for the rest of the day, and then some. 

 

***

 

The Kanto is upon him, and to outsiders, it looks as though Tezuka flawlessly directs his team up through the ranks, winning as they go. They don't see the toll it's taking on Tezuka to organize the lineup, deal with several injured teammates, as well as a first year who doesn't quite make it in time for the check-in.

They get away with using another first year as an impostor, but only just. 

Tezuka, during each of these fiascoes, is sure his blood pressure has skyrocketed. But he gives none of that away, mask firmly in place. 

 

***

 

And that mask stays.

Until it doesn't.

He's on his knees, whole body screaming at him to stop, to rest. At the base of the net in front of him, is a ball. 

Yet again, he has failed. 

Though he gave everything, he failed.

Tezuka's mind is as numb as his body as he staggers to his feet, and clasps Atobe's hand with its own, lets it be raised high to the sound of thunderous applause.

Any praise he receives from his teammates falls on deaf ears.

Seigaku does manage to win, but it is no thanks to him.

He disregards the texts he gets from Atobe that night. He doesn't deserve that kind of comfort.

 

***

 

He sits alone in the team locker room the next day, long after his teammates leave for the evening. 

On a small screen, he rewatches his match. He rewatches the last point. Again and again he rewinds, searching himself to find what went wrong. Where he mistepped, where his elbow didn't bend enough, where he didn't follow through.

These past few months have been utterly draining. But Tezuka, as an individual, has little to show for his efforts. 

He doesn't hear Atobe come in, eyes glazed over and unfocused. Completely withdrawn into his own head. 

_I'm a failure I'm imperfect I'm worthless_

A gentle hand on his knee shakes Tezuka back into reality. Atobe is kneeling in front of him, looking up with such tender concern and sadness. 

"Kunimitsu."

Tezuka blinks, composure held together by mere threads. 

"It's okay. _You're_  okay."

The dam breaks.

Tezuka slumps to the floor and into Atobe's waiting arms, hot tears that have been held back far too long finally flowing freely down his cheeks.

He buries his face in Atobe's neck and sobs, clutching at the fabric of his jersey with shaking fingers as he does so. And Atobe lets him, rubbing Tezuka's back and pressing soft kisses to his hair as he, at long last, allows himself expression of all the worries and doubts and heavy burdens he's been carrying for so, so long. 

It hurts him, to see his love like this, but it hurts even more to watch him force himself not to feel, to wear that mask each day, all day. 

Atobe knows that his presence now won't take away Tezuka's problems like a magic spell from a fairy godmother, but if it eases his pain even a little, Atobe would swim a whole ocean just to hold Tezuka like this. 

Eventually, Tezuka's tears fade to soft gasps and tremors, and then to a silence permeated only by the occasional sniffle. When Tezuka pulls away from Atobe, his glasses are wet and smudged, askew on his nose.

Atobe carefully pulls them off, sets them on the bench, and thumbs away the wetness collected under Tezuka's red rimmed, tired eyes. 

"You need rest, my dearest," Atobe murmurs softly, cupping Tezuka's cheek. He nods soundlessly, eyes fluttering shut as he leans into Atobe's touch. 

With his free hand, Atobe brushes Tezuka's hair to the side, smoothing it down.

"You are perfect. And strong. And smart. You amaze me." 

Tezuka's heart aches at Atobe's words. If he had any more tears to cry, they'd be threatening to fall. He gasps quietly as he feels soft lips against his own.

"And you are loved. You don't have to bear your burdens alone. You will always have me, Kunimitsu."

Tezuka nods again, lost for words as he allows Atobe to gather him close once more. 

 

***

 

That night, warm in Atobe's bed, Tezuka sleeps peacefully for the first time in what feels like forever.

His troubles may not be over and gone, but Atobe's words play in his head as he drifts off.

_you're okay, you're okay, you're okay_

 

***

 

Tezuka, he supposes, is the poster child for the phrase "grin and bear it". Well, disregarding the grinning, anyway. 

But, as hard as times may get, as faint is the light at the end of the tunnel may seem on some days, Tezuka knows he is not alone.

And that makes his whole world just a bit brighter.


	4. Mr. Steal Yo Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Atobe and Sanada are being boneheaded, Tezuka can count on Yukimura to give him what he needs. Inspired by those buck wild episodes during the Junior Selection Camp. You know the ones.
> 
> Rating: E
> 
> Pairing: Yukimura/Tezuka, implied future Imperial/Alpha foursome

Twenty four hours. Barely twenty four hours since Tezuka had returned to Japan to coach the junior selection teams, and Sanada and Atobe were already fighting. Specifically, about him. About who had the exclusive right to call Tezuka their rival.

Of course neither consulted Tezuka about _his_ opinion. 

But then, when it came to asinine pissing contests such as this, they rarely did.

From an analytical standpoint, Tezuka supposed this duel of theirs could be useful, what with the notebook and a half he’d watched Inui fill up as they fought, muttering calculations to himself all the while. This odd mating display (and oh, Tezuka did roll his eyes when Fuji slyly implied that’s what it was) had them showcasing all their best techniques. All in an effort to grind the other into the courts, and impress Seigaku’s captain. Who was not at all impressed with any of this, skill level be damned. Echizen hadn’t the slightest idea what he was talking about. There was hardly anything enjoyable about this. 

Honestly, they could just _share_. 

And wasn’t that a thought that made Tezuka blush, when it slunk, completely uninvited, into the back of his mind.

But all that aside, neither Atobe nor Sanada knew that there was a third party vying for his attention. One that was much more successful in their seduction than either of the others had been thus far. 

 

****

 

Late into that same evening, after all the boys had eaten, showered, and retired to their beds, the dormitories fell silent. 

That is, except for Tezuka’s room.

Phone balanced precariously between the pillow and his ear, he twisted and writhed against his sheets, as Yukimura whispered soft, sultry praise into his ear.

“My, Kunimitsu, it must have been so long since you’ve done this... You sound so deliciously sensitive.” 

Tezuka bit his lip to stifle a moan as he slipped another finger into himself alongside the other two, stretching his rim as he pumped his hand shakily. 

“I wish I could fuck you myself, feel how hot and tight you are, sucking every inch of me in. Go slow, let yourself savor it. Can you do that for me?”

 

Though his body screamed for more, Tezuka slowed his pace, closing his eyes as he felt each finger press and drag against his inner walls. His free hand ghosted over the head of his cock, thumb rubbing through the precum collecting at the slit and smoothing it over his aching flesh. 

“Y-Yes...” A whisper that could barely be heard, but one that Yukimura caught nonetheless. 

“Yes, what?” He purred, and Tezuka’s stomach twisted with pleasure.

“Yes...sir.”`

“Mm, much better. You’re doing so well love, being _so_ good for me. Now, why don’t you touch those cute nipples of yours? I know how much you love it when I tease you, play with your chest until you beg for more... Maybe someday we can see if you’ll cum from that alone. But I’ll be there in person for that, I think.” 

The dark promise in his silky voice had Tezuka gasping with need as slick fingers plucked at his pert, dusky nipples in time with each thrust of his hand. He mewled pitifully as he brushed over his prostate, whole body spasming, caught between wanting to press into the hand at his chest or the one in his ass, too much but not enough all at once. 

“Seiichi, p-please...” 

He wanted to be good, needed to be good, but the pressure building in his abdomen was becoming overwhelming. Starting to close his control, Tezuka rubbed over his sweet spot harder than he’d intended, and pearly fluid dripped from his cock as he cried out, unable to stop himself. 

“A-Ah...!”

Yukimura decided to take pity on Tezuka, reveling in the sweetness of his moans and how perfectly obedient he was. 

“Oh, Kunimitsu... what I wouldn’t give to see you right now. Feel how responsive your body is, the blush on your cheeks. I’d take such good care of you,” Yukimura sighed. “Want to see you come, with naught but my name on those pretty lips of yours.”

And Tezuka wanted it too, wanted it badly as he twisted a nipple and rocked back on his fingers, doing his best to imagine it was Yukimura’s cock inside him, taking him hard and slow as he pet him and praised him and brought him closer and closer to the edge. Never before Yukimura had he been called ‘pretty’, but when he said it with such adoring reverence, Tezuka’s heart skipped a beat and heat flooded his body. 

“You can come when you want tonight, my dear. A reward for listening so well. I only ask that you think of me.”

But there was no need for Yukimura to ask such a thing, because Tezuka found himself incapable of keeping anyone else in his hazy, barely coherent thoughts. The hand on his nipples trailed back down his stomach to grasp at his cock, stroking himself off hard and fast.

“A-Always you, only you...!” Tezuka gasped, pressing his fingers deep inside one last time as his orgasm hit hard, stars erupting behind his eyes as he spilt himself into his hand and onto the sheets. “Seiichi....” A weak whine was all Tezuka could manage as he came down from his high. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from his body, his rim clenching around them, trying to keep him full. Breathy, soft groans punctuated each stuttering jerk of his hips as he rode out the aftershocks. It has been intense, to say the least. It always was, with Yukimura. 

“Ah...always so sweet for me, Kunimitsu. Do you feel good?”

“Mn... yes...”

Tezuka could feel Yukimura’s satisfied smirk through the phone. Wished he could see it in person. 

“Good. Your pleasure is mine, love. Now, off to bed for both of us.” His voice was tender, loving, dripping with his own post-orgasmic bliss. Something settled contently in the back of his mind, knowing that Yukimura had gotten off just by the sound of his voice. His only regret was that he’d missed the other’s gasps of ecstasy as he came undone. But there would always be more opportunities for that.

Whole body now feeling completely boneless, Tezuka could feel his eyelids drooping. He nodded in agreement, not realizing that he couldn’t be heard. But Yukimura seemed to understand. 

“Sleep well, Tezuka. Until we talk again. And don’t worry about the other two. They’ll come around. They’re just lacking a certain...finesse, at the moment.”

Tezuka hoped they’d find it soon. He’d be lying to himself if there wasn’t a part of him interested in both of them, just as he was in Yukimura. 

“Let me know when they do. It’ll give me something nice to think about until I see you all in person.”

With a click, the line went dead. Fumbling for his charger, Tezuka plugged his phone in with a soft sigh, before arranging himself comfortably against his pillows. Perhaps if Sanada and Atobe were forced to unite under a common goal...

But it was getting late, and Tezuka stored that train of thought away, to be brought up with the coaches the next morning.

It wasn’t long before he slipped into a fitful slumber, dreams full of soft charcoal hair, an old baseball cap, and a velvet voice murmuring in his ear. 


	5. By My Side Will You Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy this sure is emotional whiplash, seriousness to smut to more seriousness. In this chapter you'll find a brief glimpse into the aftermath of Tezuka's decision to leave the U-17 camp. This was written long before later chapters of the manga came out, so apologies for any inconsistencies regarding the mention of the German team. 
> 
> People with anxiety may find it difficult to transition from one place to another. For Tezuka, this is one of those times.
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka

It’s late, and Tezuka finds himself unable to find rest. He’s alone and thinking about his life as it is now and he starts to feel anxious and choked up. His heart beats faster, he starts to feel lightheaded as he begins to hyperventilate. What if he made the wrong choice? How can he possibly do this on his own? He’ll never do as well here as he could have if he stayed. All these thoughts are swirling around his mind, taunting him, suffocating him. Tears prick his eyes and begin to fall but he doesn’t feel them, collapsed on his bed as his vision begins to darken. He hasn’t had an anxiety attack like this since his injury in the Kanto tournament. He only barely registers his phone, dropped into his pillow. He thinks vaguely of Atobe, through the choking haze, but only that he isn’t here. Because Tezuka left. It’s all his fault, it’s all his fault, _itsallhisfault_.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but it’s restless, uncomfortable. He ends up calling Atobe the next morning, though it takes almost too much effort to dial his number. Atobe picks up, so pleased to be getting a call. But all Tezuka can bring himself to say is “please come”, in a quiet, tired voice. 

Atobe’s heart breaks, he can hear how exhausted, how upset Tezuka is. He calls to have his jet ready as fast as possible, it’s the weekend, and screw this camp, his boyfriend needs him. He guesses what happened, it only serves to hurry him up more; the last thing he wants is for Tezuka to be alone after an attack.

Finally he arrives in Germany, practically curses at the poor taxi driver to speed up, and the minute he’s knocking at Tezuka’s door he’s pulled over the threshold, into his boyfriend’s arms. He still looks pale, more than usual, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping well, if at all. Atobe guesses he hasn’t been eating much either, and his theory is confirmed when he briefly runs his hand over Tezuka’s side, the ribs under his skin more pronounced than usual. He’s not weak enough for it to effect his tennis game, but enough so to be unsettling. They spend awhile just standing in the entrance, not talking, just holding each other. He feels Tezuka’s heart rate slow down, his breathing evening out. Atobe decides than that he’s prepared to spend more than just the weekend, if that’s what Tezuka needs.

The first thing Atobe does, after Tezuka seems calm, is draw him a warm bath. They sit together in the tub, Tezuka’s back pressed against his chest. 

Carefully, he begins to massage his tired muscles, starting with his neck and working his way down. He finds lots of knots. Too many. Though Tezuka still hasn’t said a word, he sighs softly and relaxes back against Atobe, finally starting to feel okay again. 

After a time, neither knows how long, they leave the bath, Atobe insisting on getting him something to eat. There isn’t much in his cabinets -it must’ve been a few days since he’s gone shopping- but there’s leftover miso soup in the fridge, which Atobe quickly heats up. They sit on the couch in the small living area as they eat, dressed only in worn sweatpants, Atobe making sure Tezuka finishes his soup. It’s not nearly enough, in his opinion, but it’ll have to do for now. 

Once the empty bowls are set aside in the sink, Atobe leads them both back to the bedroom, never breaking contact with Tezuka as he entwines their fingers. This one must’ve been really bad, he thinks. Tezuka usually says something by this point.

They end up in bed, Tezuka wrapped in Atobe’s arms, his head on his shoulder. It’s warm, between and around them, and Tezuka breathes in, enveloped in his boyfriend’s scent that he’s missed so much. It’s soothing. He realizes how much he needed this. Finally he speaks, murmuring a quiet “thank you”, against Atobe’s skin. He’s the only one Tezuka lets see him like this, when he’s having his worst and weakest days, however rare they might be.

 He feels Atobe tighten his hold just a bit, and his chest warms when he nuzzles his still damp hair, and whispers, “I’ll always come to you, Kunimitsu, whenever and wherever you need me.” The ‘I love you’s go unspoken, both know very well that they’re there, even without words. 

Tezuka feels himself starting to drift off. Atobe makes him feel safe, and loved, and strong. It doesn’t matter that he’s here in Germany. For now, for at least this weekend, Tezuka is home.


	6. Somebody to Lean On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a deleted scene from Zootopia, I found it so easy to see Tezuka in Judy's shoes. He's just made a big move to a new country, and he's missing his loved ones dearly. But even halfway across the globe, he finds they're not so far away.
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka/Sanada/Yukimura

By the time Tezuka finally made it back to the tiny, creaky, rundown apartment he had been given, it was nearly midnight. Far later than he liked to be getting in for the night, but extra practice had pushed him to forget about the time. But he had missed the last train that stopped closest to his shoddy complex, tucked between an industrial building and an old restaurant. Tezuka had had to walk over a mile from the second closest station to get back, all the while looking over his shoulder as his heart pounded. He didn't know Berlin like he knew Tokyo. Who knew what might be waiting for him around any dark corner? Not Tezuka, certainly, and he was especially careful not to let his guard down, lest he run the risk of finding out. 

Not to mention he was completely soaked, from a short, intense rainstorm that had come without warning.

 After practically dragging himself across the threshold, Tezuka winced at the sound of his soggy socks slopping water all over the entryway. He quickly peeled them off his now very cold, very wrinkly toes and tossed them into the small laundry hamper near his bed. Which was basically in the kitchen. It was a two room apartment, the other being a tiny bathroom with a stained porcelain tub, toilet, and a sink whose drain tended to be finicky at best. 

A moment later, Tezuka was hit with the smell of greasy, overcooked beef. He had accidentally left his single window ajar, allowing the smells of the restaurant below to flood his place of residence. But Tezuka was much too tired to care, let alone even think about fixing the problem. He just sighed, shut the window, and meandered over to the cabinets and small refrigerator he kept his food stuffs in.  Settling for a cup of instant noodles, lacking the energy for anything more involved, Tezuka filled the cup with water and shoved it into the microwave that sat atop the fridge. 

And his teammates back home, well, most of them anyway, thought this whole thing was going to be a grand adventure. 

Two minutes later, Tezuka grabbed his now steaming noodle cup and dropped himself into the desk chair on the opposite side of the room. He'd been here nearly three weeks now, training with the German national team. He hadn't expected it to be smooth sailing, of course, but he hadn't expected it to be...downright draining.

Tezuka's new teammates were less than thrilled to have a foreigner join their already close knit squad, and the fact that he could beat most of them handily didn't exactly help matters. At first, they had muttered about him in rapid German, believing that Tezuka could not understand. Upon the realization that he could, indeed, comprehend every one of their quiet insults, some of them dropped the attempt at subtlety entirely and went about talking loudly within earshot. And occasionally to his face. And as much as Tezuka never let them get the best of him...it was hard. Especially when they refused to call him by his surname, as he had politely asked so many times. After being surrounded by such honest, trusted people for so long, this was an absolute shock to his system. And there was almost nothing he could do about it. 

The noodles were bland, overcooked, and generally unsatisfying. Tezuka dumped them unceremoniously into the trash bin on the floor next to his desk. 

Tezuka ran his fingers through his hair, hoping the next day might be better, after he managed to get what few hours of sleep he had coming to him before he had to be up for morning practice.  His eyes drifted to the photos he kept at the top of the desk. One of him, Atobe, Sanada, and Yukimura, all bundled up in light scarves and pea coats, with pinked cheeks and carefree smiles. That had been the day that Atobe and Yukimura had roped their other two boyfriends into exploring a corn maze, on a trip to America they'd taken last fall courtesy of Atobe's father. Despite his protests, Yukimura had not allowed Tezuka a map. They had managed to get thoroughly lost, but that had only made the adventure more memorable. 

The second was of him and Atobe alone, standing in a corner of a tennis court, arms around one another and racquets forgotten on the clay beneath their feet. Tezuka hadn't even known Fuji was there, but he had found, when presented with the framed photograph and Fuji's mysterious smile, that he couldn't be angry. He and Atobe looked completely content and in love, the way Atobe cupped his cheek and his eyes closed as their foreheads rested gently against one another. 

Looking at that photograph, Tezuka felt his chest ache painfully. He missed his boyfriends terribly, their warmth and company and love. He felt like a part of him was missing. When he had left them in Japan, just those few weeks ago, the hole in his chest had grown with each mile he put between them and himself. After the day Tezuka had, all he wanted was to curl up in Atobe's large, comfortable bed, surrounded by all of them. 

But he was in Germany. And they were halfway around the world. 

But only physically. Reaching into his shorts pocket, Tezuka pulled out his phone and unlocked it, taking a moment to admire his lock screen; him and Yukimura at the top of a mountain, as the sun rose behind them. It would be so easy to call, to hear their voices. They'd definitely be awake right now, probably just tucking into breakfast. He opened the call screen, and chose Atobe's contact.

 Tezuka made a conscious effort then to look away from the phone, and instead focus on the small notebook laying open in front of him. 

 

"If things seem hard,

If you want to quit,

If you feel like you can't go on,

Suck It Up."

 

The last sentence had been underlined multiple times. It was Tezuka's daily reminder to stay strong, that he could do this, and do it well, but it all rested on his mentality. Squaring his shoulders, Tezuka set the phone down roughly on the desk.

He didn't need help. Today was just a bad day. He would be fine tomorrow.

Suck it up.

Tezuka tipped his head back and focused on even breathing in an attempt to calm himself down. And then he heard his phone ringing.

Startling, Tezuka lunged for it as it continued to try and video chat Atobe, he hadn't realized that he had accidentally pressed the call button. He fumbled it in his hands, but it was too late. A second later the camera flicked on, revealing a slightly tired, but pleased looking Atobe.

"Kunimitsu!" He said happily, turning to someone off screen to add, "I told you he'd call." Atobe looked back to the camera. "How are you feeling? It's late there, yes?"

Tezuka was about to respond, but before he could, Yukimura moved into frame, looking a bit more rumpled. They must just be getting up for breakfast, then. Blue eyes scrutinized Tezuka through the screen.

"Wait, is something wrong? You look soaking wet, absolutely exhausted, and your glasses are all crooked!" That last part seemed to be the most disturbing observation, and Tezuka quickly reached up to right them on his nose.

"I'm fine. It's just..." He exhaled, slumping a bit in his chair, which, in the back of his mind, he knew would only worry his boyfriends further. "It's been a long day." That was certainly the truth.

Yukimura smiled softly, and Tezuka wished he could pull him, pull all of them through this tiny screen and into his awful little apartment. "I'm sure things will be better tomorrow. But do try to remember an umbrella if it's going to rain, I'd hate for you to get sick." Off screen, Tezuka heard a door opening and shutting.

"Oh, Genichirou's out of the shower!" Yukimura turned and waved him over. "Kunimitsu is on the phone, come say hello!"

Sanada didn't look the least bit tired, already fully dressed and ready for the day, save for his damp hair. He opted not to start with a greeting, but instead, "do you remember those self-defense moves we went over? Have you had to use any? I don't trust those Europeans..."

Tezuka could perfectly imagine the affronted expression that Atobe had to have been making. "Excuse me, I'm partly European!" His indignant retort was slightly muffled from whatever he was doing off screen. 

Sanada didn't even look away from the camera, but Tezuka saw his lips quirk in the barest hint of a smile. "Mm, the point still stands." 

Atobe huffed in the background while Tezuka answered Sanada's questions. "Of course I remember. I haven't had to use them." Yet. He didn't exactly trust his teammates, hardly more than he would anyone else he met on the street. 

But his answer satisfied Sanada. "Good. I... Well, we. We all worry about you." 

Atobe grabbed the phone again. "And we won't hesitate to come out for a weekend if you need us to. I can have the jet ready in an hour!"

Tezuka shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Keigo. You all should stay and train. I can't imagine it's gotten any easier.

"Harder, actually. More high schoolers have shown up, and they're better than any of the others. I think they'll be picking players to go to the world tournament soon." 

Tezuka couldn't help but smile at the enthusiasm showing through as Atobe spoke, always so eager to face down any challenge. Right now, he needed a bit of that confidence. 

He chanced a look at the clock. One in the morning.

"I...." Tezuka had to go to bed, try and get any bit of rest he could, but he didn't want to hang up. 

Yukimura seemed to sense his dilemma, even through the distance between them. "You should probably sleep. Your play will suffer, otherwise." To some, it may have seemed like a callous, uncaring remark, but Tezuka knew Yukimura was only thinking about his wellbeing. If his game deteriorated, so might his mental state, which would lead to even more problems he didn't have time to deal with.

"Keep being amazing, okay?" Yukimura continued. "You've made your team, and us, and everyone really, so proud. But take care of yourself too."

Tezuka nodded, allowing himself a small smile. "I will." 

"And be careful. Tarundoru," was Sanada's advice, offered in a soft, loving way, rather than the harsh bark he reserved for everyone else.

"I know."

"I promise, we'll see you soon. Maybe we'll even get to play each other on the world stage. Now that would be a grand match..." Atobe grinned, already looking so far ahead to the future. But an elbow from Yukimura brought him back to the present. "But anyway. Sleep well, 'Mitsu. We love you, very much." All three of them were visible now.

Tezuka drew a deep, slightly shaky breath. "I love you too." More than he would ever be able to express with words alone. Taking one last look at his boyfriends, Tezuka pressed the end call button and shut his phone off, blinking away the wet sting that had risen up at the corners of his eyes.

Slowly, he rose from the desk and walked over to the bed, but not before trailing his fingertips over the frames of his photographs. One bad day didn't mean the rest of his time in Germany would be similar. Besides, Tezuka reasoned, he played singles. As long as the coaches liked him, and they did, he'd stay on the team. And he'd faced far worse than petty insults on the courts.

Tezuka stripped off the rest of his damp clothes, and got right into bed, not bothering to change into pajamas before pulling the covers up to his chin. His thick fleece blanket, a "housewarming" gift from his lovers, would come in very handy tonight. 

Setting his glasses on the bedside table, Tezuka huddled into the soft fabric, sighing contently. His last thought before he drifted off the sleep, was that playing Atobe in an international tournament was definitely a goal he could strive for. 


	7. You'll Rise Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his victory over Atobe in his doubles match at the U-17, Tezuka senses that all is not well with his boyfriend. So of course, he goes to investigate.
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka

Tezuka's teammates hardly paid him a second glance when he shouldered his bag and left the stadium, already too occupied with cheering for their leader. Still breathing hard from his newly won doubles match, Tezuka walked through the winding hallways, shoes occasionally squeaking on the linoleum floor when he let his feet drag too much. Soon enough though, he was outside, the harsh Australian sun quickly warming his skin under his black warm up suit. But he didn't stop to remove it. 

Tezuka made his way to the practice courts, eyes scanning the watching crowds and waiting players for a familiar face. He found him, in the very back, slamming a ball against a cracked, crumbling wall shaded by tall trees, secluded from the rest of the courts. Tezuka said nothing as he approached. He only stood, observing as Atobe worked through whatever thoughts and emotions must be roiling in his mind. 

"Come to gloat, I suppose," Atobe bit out harshly, not even turning to face Tezuka. He caught the ball as it sailed back towards him, before unleashing a brutal Tannhauser against the wall. Chips of plaster flew in all directions as the wall caved and splintered under the force of impact, the ball leaving a deep crater in its wake.

Refusing to dignify Atobe's attempt at baiting him with a response, Tezuka continued to stand, silent and waiting. He knew any words of comfort he might offer now would only stand to make Atobe even angrier. This wasn't just a bad day. A bad day for Atobe was losing two games in an entire match. This was complete and utter destruction, annihilation clean and simple. And to make matters worse, Tezuka had helped cause it. Not that he regretted his victory. No, Tezuka knew he deserved it, knew how hard he'd worked and how much he'd endured to get to this place. He knew if the situation was reversed, Atobe wouldn't regret winning either. But all the same...

The sound of a sharp popping noise brought Tezuka back to the scene in front of him. The crater in the wall was now a fully formed hole, and the ball lay, ripped and broken, on the ground in front of it. Atobe's raquet slipped from his hand. The clatter it made, the limpness of Atobe's hand, not even reaching to pick it up, made Tezuka's heart ache. 

Finally, Atobe drew a deep breath. "I want to be mad at you," he said, head lowered, hair obscuring his eyes. "I want to be furious, insulted, that you took away my victory. Because I worked just as hard as you did, I did everything I possibly could to lead this team here, and this is what happens!" Atobe's voice was rising now, his fingers, no longer hanging loose, were clenching into fists. "That wasn't a loss, that was a slaughter!" He laughed, broken and terrible, raking his hand through his hair. Tezuka took a step forward, letting his bag slip from his shoulder and land on the cracked clay below.

"But I can't," Atobe said, seemingly calm again, but Tezuka knew better. As Atobe finally turned to face him, the electric glint in his eye gave him away. "I can't be mad at you, Kunimitsu. And you know why? Because it won't change that fact I...I...!" His shoulders shook, and just like that, the barrier of aggression Atobe had thrown up crumpled. A single droplet splashed between them.

"I'm not good enough."

A faint whisper, barely discernible, but Tezuka heard it loud and clear. This time, he couldn't stop his movements as he closed the remaining gap, took Atobe in his arms and held him close, feeling the tremors of Atobe's body against his own. 

"What in the world," Tezuka began, murmuring softly against Atobe's hair, "would ever make you believe something so ridiculous and untrue." He was very glad, in this moment, that Atobe had come to a place where they would not be seen. He wouldn't have dared to be so affectionate otherwise, he knew Atobe hated looking weak in public above all else. 

"Of course you would think it false," said Atobe, voice muffled in the collar of Tezuka's jacket. "You see me through rose tinted lenses."

Tezuka sighed. "Perhaps in some ways, I do. But not in tennis. I would never deceive you, or have you believe things about yourself that aren't real. You deserve to be here every bit as much as I do, as much as any of your team does. Or do you believe that Sanada has no right to stand on these courts either?"

That caused Atobe to shift back, frowning at Tezuka with faintly reddened eyes. "You must be joking, Sanada's one of the strongest among us."

"Yes, but there was a time when he might not have been."

When Atobe only blinked owlishly at him, willing Tezuka to elaborate, he continued. "Think back to the very beginning of the U-17. Remember those tie-breakers they made us play? I'm certain you remember his in particular." 

"I know exactly where you're going with this..."

"Good, it saves me the trouble of explaining."

Atobe huffed. "That was nothing like my match."

"I agree. Arguably, it was worse," said Tezuka, eyebrow raised.

"Now this, I have to hear." Atobe rolled his eyes disbelievingly, as if nothing Tezuka could say would right his statement.

But Tezuka pressed on. "Your loss was in front of a crowd, yes, but they are all strangers. You will most likely never see or speak with any of them again. But Sanada... Sanada's loss was in front of his peers, his coaches, people who wanted, hoped to see him fail. He lost himself to the yips, and he lost the match. He was publicly labelled a loser, humiliated in front of all of us, and sent away."

"But it was an unlucky matchup. And besides, Sanada came back, didn't he? He's here with us now."

"In that regard, how are you any different?" The corner of Tezuka's mouth raised in the barest hint of a smile.

"I haven't come back."

"We both know you will."

Atobe snorted derisively. "Sure as hell doesn't feel like it."

"Well, of course it wouldn't. You haven't even had time to lick your wounds yet," said Tezuka, chancing a more taunting counter. He felt Atobe stiffen against him. 

"I suppose I should congratulate you on your victory. Should I get down on my knees for that too? You seemed to enjoy it on the court." 

Tezuka winced internally, he had gone just a step too far. "You know I didn't. I just meant..." He fumbled for the right words, not wanting to anger Atobe further. "That wasn't you, out there." Tezuka opted for honesty, hoping it was the right choice.

"Hah! Like you were any different. I know how you play; how you play with me. And that wasn't it. So don't go accusing me, when you've got your own explaining to do." Atobe took a step back, and Tezuka immediately missed his warmth as he did so. But he was right. There had been tension in him, throughout that whole match. Tezuka silently promised to explain himself later, but right now Atobe came first.

"I won't pretend you're wrong. But this isn't about me right now."

Atobe sneered. "Must be nice, Tezuka, being able to deflect so easily."

It hurt, hearing his name on Atobe's lips in such an uncaring, unfamiliar fashion. But this was just Atobe trying to drive him off, Tezuka reminded himself. Leaving now would only make things worse. 

"Please, Keigo. Let me in."

Seconds stretched into minutes as the two looked at one another. Tentatively, Tezuka reached out, never breaking eye contact. When Atobe didn't react, he gently took his hand, holding it like a precious treasure between them. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin on the back, over his defined, slightly knobby knuckles. Atobe's icy gaze melted, just enough for Tezuka to know that, for now, he had done something right.

Atobe came back to Tezuka, resting his forehead against Tezuka's own. "Okay," he said, suddenly sounding very tired. "Okay."

Not even bothering to check to see if anyone had wandered near them, Tezuka lifted Atobe's hand, and brushed his lips over his fingers. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...been like that." He wasn't sure if the apology was for the match, or for what he had said about Atobe licking his wounds. Probably both.

Atobe exhaled, long and shaky. "Me too. I...You were trying to help. And I lashed out." Tezuka could tell how much it took for Atobe to admit that. 

He leaned in closer, nudging Atobe's nose with his own. "Talk to me?"

Tezuka felt arms around his waist. "I will. Just...give me time." Tezuka nodded in response. "Tonight? We can meet in the room of whoever's team is out celebrating."

"I'll see you there, then." 

Fingers tangled in Tezuka's hair, and suddenly Atobe's plush lips were on his own. Tezuka let his eyes slide closed as he squeezed Atobe's hand, returning the tender kiss. But it wasn't long before they broke apart, both aware that their privacy could be gone at any moment.

"Thank you, Kunimitsu," Atobe whispered, and Tezuka's heart fluttered. "For coming after me. And for staying." 

"You deserve all that and more."

"You're all the more I could ever want." Atobe was smiling now, anger slowly fading away, though sadness and something else Tezuka couldn't immediately place remained. "But you should get back to your team. They'll be wondering where you are."

Hardly, Tezuka thought wryly. They probably hadn't even noticed he'd been gone this whole time. "What about you? If I know Oishi, he's probably worried."

Atobe smirked. "You're right, most likely. But I think...I'm going to go for a swim first."

"A swim," Tezuka said flatly. 

"Yes. I believe it will help clear my head."

There was going to be no arguing with Atobe over this, so Tezuka didn't even try. He watched as Atobe went to retrieve his racquet, slipping it back into his bag. 

"But regardless, I'll see you tonight." Atobe stole one last, quick kiss, and then he was gone.


	8. All I Want For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atobe is unfortunate enough to find himself alone on Christmas, but perhaps a holiday miracle might come his way.
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka, background Atobe/Tezuka/Sanada/Yukimura

It's late when the snow begins to fall outside. Atobe looks out the window, watching the fat, fluffy flakes spiral down to earth, blanketing his entire property in a sparkling white. His book is laid open in his lap, forgotten as he looks on, sighing wistfully. On nights like these, there's no better way to pass the time than snuggled up to the ones you love.

If only they were here.

Sanada and Yukimura were both gone for a week and a half, spending Christmas in France with Yukimura's family. They had video-chatted with Atobe the day previous, asking how he was doing, telling him how much they missed him while trying not to look too in love and happy. But Atobe could hardly begrudge that happiness, he knew just how romantic those sorts of vacations were. He imagined they were probably just getting up, no doubt sleeping in the same bed, as Yukimura's family had long since accepted Sanada as a second son. Little did they know he wasn't the only one Yukimura loved.

The four of them had decided it was for the better of they didn't disclose the full details of their admittedly unconventional relationship. Yukimura's parents were really the only ones who didn't bat an eye when they learned their son was dating a boy. Sanada's family remained ever tight-lipped about the whole situation. Atobe's own parents, who had been informed of Atobe's relationship with Tezuka from the start, were slightly better. At least, his mother was. His father disapproved completely, as he was under the impression that Atobe ought to marry a rich girl and be the 'proper' heir he wanted in a son.

Still, Atobe mused, grimacing at the thought, at least he had one relatively supportive parent. Tezuka's family did not take the news of him dating Atobe well at all. But rather than try and talk Tezuka out of it, they simply chose to pretend that no such relationship existed, that Atobe was no more than a friend, and that someday Tezuka would get married and settle down and everything would be perfect. 

Which is how Atobe finds himself utterly alone in his mansion, while Tezuka is up in Hokkaido on a family vacation. But he knows, at least, that Tezuka doesn't exactly want to be there. His relationship with his parents has been...strained, since coming out. But being the relatively non-confrontational person that he is, Tezuka somehow manages to remain respectful around his family, even when they insist on denying who he is and who he loves. 

Atobe has always admired that self-control. Perhaps it's for the best that he's not there right now. One snide comment too many and he'd not be able to stop himself giving everybody a thorough chewing out, elder respect be damned. 

He picks up his phone. December 24th. Just two more days until Tezuka comes home. 

Atobe is just about to pick up his book, force himself to pass the time, when the sound of the door chimes echo through the household.

Curious as to who could be visiting so late in the evening, especially given the current weather, he gets up from the couch, sliding his feet into soft slippers before trekking out to the main entrance hall. 

Upon entering, Atobe's first instinct is to give himself a sound pinch on the leg. His second more belated thought, is that he should most definitely return the hug as Tezuka pulls him into his arms, not even bothering to brush the rapidly melting snow off his coat. 

But Atobe could care less about the fleeting cold, instead focusing on forcing his shell shocked body to _move_ , to hold Tezuka just as tightly as he's being held right now. Atobe swears he can hear Tezuka's heartbeat, all the way up in his throat as he buries his face in Tezuka's neck, closing his eyes and breathing deep. 

He can feel himself trembling a bit, and he suspects Tezuka can too because the arms around his waist tighten just a little bit more. 

They stand like that, wrapped up in one another, for some time. Not speaking, just soaking up each other's presence.

Finally, when he's sure that this isn't just a dream, Atobe pulls away just enough to see Tezuka's face, take in his windswept hair, rosy cheeks and water-spotted glasses. 

"You're back..."

It's all Atobe can manage, at the moment.

Tezuka smiles, a small and tender thing that makes Atobe's stomach flutter as if he's fourteen again and just discovering love. "I couldn't stay a day longer. My family is important but..."

The 'not as much as you', floats in the air between them, but not for long, as Atobe can't help but wind his arms around Tezuka's neck and kiss him like he'll die if he doesn't. He pours everything into that kiss, how lonely he's felt, how much he's missed Tezuka, how happy he is that he's back. 

The kiss is rather desperate at first, but Tezuka allows it, welcomes it, because everything Atobe's feeling, he's feeling too. But as Tezuka gently cups his cheek in his palm, soothing a thumb across the delicate skin under his eye, Atobe sighs against his mouth, hunger tempering to slow, burning need as their tongues rub over one another languidly, lips moving together in perfect harmony as they give and take in turns. 

But eventually, the need to breathe properly wins out over the need for closeness. Tezuka's head is spinning just a bit, and he takes a moment to collect himself, resting his forehead against Atobe's as gentle fingers sweep through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Atobe tilts his head, and this time the kiss is nothing more than a brush of lips. "I missed you," he murmurs, wanting to say it out loud even though they're both very well aware of that fact. 

Tezuka nudges his nose with his own, making them both smile. "Happy Christmas, Keigo."

They still haven't left the hall, it's nearly midnight, and the cool dampness from Tezuka's snowy jacket is beginning to seep into Atobe's clothes. And he -both of them- are going to have to deal with some very irate parents in the morning. But he couldn't care less. Because all he needs right now is standing right in front of him.

"Happy Christmas, Kunimitsu."


	9. Newfound Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Initially unsure about what university might be like, Tezuka finds it was everything he never dreamed it could be, and more.
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka, background Sanada/Yukimura

When Tezuka took his first steps onto his University campus, for the first time since middle school, he felt like he could breathe. Here, living with Atobe, Sanada and Yukimura in their apartment, there were no expectations of him beyond being a courteous roommate. He didn’t have to be a dutiful son and grandson, or a student council president, or a prodigious tennis captain, unless he wanted to. And perhaps he would, sometime in the future. But for now, he was just Tezuka Kunimitsu, a Finance and German double major at one of Tokyo’s top universities. And he found that he liked that just fine. 

His parents had tried to get him to live at home for a while, and he nearly would have given in if not for Atobe insisting that he, Sanada, and Yukimura all share an apartment with him. A chance to live with his boyfriend and two of his close friends was an opportunity Tezuka wasn’t about to pass up, no matter how much his mother insisted she would miss him. 

Tezuka may have thought the place was too lavish at first, not fitting for freshman university students, but he quickly got over it when he saw the size of the bedrooms and the baths. It was like an extension of Atobe’s mansion, but much more sleek and modern, very much his style. Even Sanada was pleased with the state of the place when he realized the floor to ceiling windows would offer him an excellent view while meditating every morning. 

And honestly, it was the first time that Tezuka really had a space he could call his own. He didn’t have to worry about his mother rearranging things when she cleaned, or questioning his clothing choices. He didn’t have to hide his boy’s love manga collection anymore, and happily placed his favorite volumes next to the German poetry books on his shelves. He could keep his laptop open to any site he pleased without risk of someone walking in on him. Tezuka felt like he could relax there, finally let his guard down. And it was wonderful. 

Tezuka could tell that Sanada felt the same way, although to a smaller degree. The fact that his boyfriend was there certainly helped a great deal. Yukimura, both on and off the courts, was a calming influence on Sanada. Without his rather strict family living with him, he too allowed himself to be a bit more lax in some ways. Like soaking in the bath for just a few minutes longer, or stealing a strawberry out of Yukimura’s ice cream. He and Tezuka had a silent understanding between the two of them of what a privilege this whole situation was, something that Atobe and Yukimura would never quite grasp. And that was okay. The two were glad their boyfriends would never have to understand. 

On campus, Tezuka found himself able to satisfy his occasionally intense desire to become invisible. At a university of thirty thousand students, it wasn’t hard for him to melt seamlessly into a crowd. In large lectures, no one knew, or cared, who he was. And even in smaller seminars, he felt relatively unacknowledged by his peers. It was refreshing, not to be looked at like a god by some, and the devil by others. Tezuka didn’t have to worry about setting an example, or keeping up a facade of perfection. 

And because it was central Tokyo, in a place filled with young people, attitudes towards everything were much more open. He was in shock the first time he saw two girls kiss by a fountain in a courtyard, before parting ways for class. Such a thing would have been unheard of back at Seigaku, or even in his suburb outside the city. But he realized, after the moment registered in his brain, that no one really seemed to care. The two girls got a passing glance or two, but no one acted as though the world would end. 

A week later, Tezuka got up the courage to give Atobe a quick kiss on the cheek, when he picked him up after an afternoon of classes. The radiant smile he got in return gave him courage enough for ten more kisses, each lingering longer than the last.

 With that last part of himself that he had kept hidden from so many now out in the open, Tezuka felt lighter than he had in years. He found himself smiling more, no longer as afraid to keep his emotions under lock and key. And finally, Tezuka felt comfortable enough to do something he’d been avoiding for a long while.

 The therapist he met with was a kind woman. She wasn’t cold, or clinical. She didn’t immediately pry into Tezuka’s private life, beyond asking him the mandatory questions every therapist was required to. He found her easy to talk to, for some inexplicable reason. She didn’t push one treatment option for him, but laid out all the options for combating the anxiety and occasional depression that Tezuka had been too afraid to admit he had. He knew Atobe wouldn’t judge him for it, nor would any of his other housemates. He went home from his first visit feeling more in control of his life than he ever had before. 

As the semester progressed, Tezuka continued to make new discoveries about himself. He’d realized, several months in, that without his mother reminding him to get his hair cut, he’d let it get unusually long. Not nearly as much as Yukimura’s, which now reached the bottom of his shoulder blades, but there was definitely noticeable growth. And if he were honest with himself, Tezuka didn’t mind it. His copper locks that had just barely reached the bottom of his neck now curled around the sides of his throat, and the top strands behind his bangs were long enough to pull into a small ponytail, which Atobe insisted looked very handsome on him. So Tezuka made no moves to change it. 

He also found that having a later class every once in a while was a wonderful treat. Tezuka’s Friday classes didn’t start until noon, which meant he could sleep until ten-thirty if he wanted. And he took full advantage of it. Sleeping so late, surrounded by soft sheets and even softer pillows felt so luxurious, and left Tezuka feeling very well-rested. And it was even better when Atobe was able to sleep in with him. He wondered how he had ever gotten up at five every morning in high school. Now that he had experienced a real lie-in, Tezuka didn’t think he could go back to that.

Just like he couldn’t go back to sneaking around, trying to hide the fact that he and his boyfriend were sexually active. Two couples in the apartment meant that no one cared if two people were fucking at three in the afternoon, so long as they weren’t overly loud. It meant that if a sex toy showed up in the mail, no one was scrambling to hide it away before a parent saw. It meant that, if you opened a drawer in the coffee table next to the couch, you might find condoms and lube there. Tezuka found it lovely not to have to worry about leaving love bites or having them himself. He could walk into the kitchen in an over-large shirt and not care if Yukimura saw the dark bruises littering his collarbone and neck. Most likely because he would be proudly displaying some of his own. 

Looking back, after the first semester of his freshman year, Tezuka couldn’t believe he’d been nervous about going away to university. He felt more like himself than he’d ever been allowed to feel, and now that he’d experienced that life, Tezuka couldn’t imagine ever going back to the way things were before. 


	10. Gray Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you can't stop the clouds from rolling in. But for Tezuka, there will always be someone to help him weather the storm.
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Pairing: Atobe/Tezuka

Sometimes, even on the most inconspicuous, normal, uneventful day in the world, Tezuka feels off. He doesn't know why, couldn't explain it if people asked. But he doesn't feel himself. More like a robot just going through the motions, towards an end but not really, because there doesn't quite seem to be a point to anything that he does. The world, usually so vibrant, seems dimmed by a haze of gray. And if there is an end, something meaningful that all his actions lead to, he just doesn't care enough to stick around to see it. 

It's on those days that, usually, he seeks out Atobe. Wherever he's sitting, reading whatever business article or textbook chapter he needs to for class, Tezuka wordlessly sits down next to him, tucks his legs up under himself, and lays his head on his shoulder. Because he's been in his own head for too damn long and Atobe never asks the questions most people think are helpful, but are really just even more exhausting to try and answer. He's just there, a presence for Tezuka to ground himself in. 

And for that, Tezuka is immeasurably thankful. 

After a moment of being able to just sit in the closest thing he can get at this point to a peaceful silence, Tezuka will feel fingers in his hair, Atobe's nonverbal attempt to soothe away what he can. Atobe knows he can't fix everything, that's just not something he's capable of, but he'll lessen the heaviness weighing on his boyfriend's mind as best he's able, even if it's only a fleeting relief.

"Tough time, huh?" Atobe keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb whatever kind of somber bubble has materialized around them. He knows Tezuka needs softness, that his own thoughts are already probably more than sharp and overbearing and loud enough. 

Most times, Tezuka just nods against his shoulder, sometimes he'll murmur his agreement. Atobe's petting doesn't stop, giving him something external to focus on, to distract from the persistent feelings of emptiness swirling around his mind. He easily synchs his breaths with each pass of Atobe's deft fingers through his copper locks. This isn't a panic attack, this he knows for certain, there's no immediate and powerful feelings of dread and worry and nothing will ever be okay again. It's almost the complete opposite. Everything is slower. Everything is colder. Time seems to stretch on and on and on, no sign of change on the horizon. So much gray. 

Atobe, for his part, knows that Tezuka will talk when he's ready, if he wants to talk at all. Some days he does. Others he doesn't want to. With his free hand Atobe reaches behind him, grabs a large blanket folded on the arm of the couch and does his best to shake it out and drape it over the boy curled into his side. He knows Tezuka is usually chilled. 

He doesn't even think about asking about his medication. Those pills that Tezuka keeps hidden away in the back of his dresser drawer are none of his business, and he knows that even when they're taken, they don't make unpleasant feelings or worries magically fade away forever. 

Sometimes, when Tezuka has spent long enough just soaking in Atobe's warmth, his scent, his comfort, he drifts off to sleep. It's not the kind of sleep Tezuka so often resorts to out of necessity, to relieve himself of the murky gloom and weighty burdens of the waking world, if only for a little while. These short rests leave him feeling better, knowing he's not alone, there's someone to validate his feelings, and while utterly draining, they don't make him weak, or a nuisance, or worth any less. And usually, Tezuka has the strength to tell himself this on his own, get the small boosts he needs to get himself through another day, another week, another month. Where there's a light at the end of the tunnel and things are okay. 

But those rare days when that's just not enough anymore, he can always count on Atobe to be there for him. To place soft kisses on his temple, his cheeks, his lips. To pull him close and rub his back or pet his hair. To bring him out of the mental maze he's been running through for too long without a rest. 

Atobe's love is unconditional, offered freely at any and all times. A well of kindness and comfort that will never run dry, no matter how much, on those days few and far between, Tezuka fears he might just drain it one day.

After what could be minutes, hours, or anything in between, Tezuka will pick his head up, lean in and give Atobe a sweet kiss. He'll utter a quiet "thank you" against his lips. He might not want to get up just yet, but even still, he feels better. The river threatening to flood over has receded once again. Time to carry on.

 


End file.
